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by pretty_mr_sanders (shipit)



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Safewording, implied csa, implied nsfw, mafia!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 04:03:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11797995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipit/pseuds/pretty_mr_sanders
Summary: How Virgil joined the Mafia.// Based off of my AU on tumblr. At this point in the time line, Virgil was going by Ann.





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**Author's Note:**

> Check the tags for triggers! I may have missed a couple (I hope not) but if you're familiar with this AU, you know them. The gist of Ann/Virgil's backstory deals with sexual abuse and child abuse. Be cautious please x

The building in front of him is big, bigger than his home. It’s incredibly intimidating, especially given the danger he knows resides inside. Leaning against the side of it is a man with glasses and a blue shirt, texting. Waiting. He walks over to him and tries not to have a heart attack. “I’m here for a job interview…?” He says with as much confidence as he can muster, which isn’t much. The man’s eyes skate over his short shorts and plain black crop top.

“I can see that. Come with me.”

“My name is Ann S-”

“Don’t care,” the man says, and turns on his heel to lead Ann into the building. He has on dark jeans and a button down, and everyone they pass is in similar attire, making Ann feel extremely under dressed. If he had his way, Ann would probably be wearing jeans and a tee shirt. His boss Jace’s words echo in his head:  _ Don’t fuck this up. Be the pretty little whore I know you are, and when the time comes, kill Sanders. _ It’s a suicide mission, but Ann’s always been expendable. He knows it, and he’s come to terms with it, so at least this way death should be quick. 

They get to an office on the bottom floor that’s undecorated and impersonal. In the center is a heavy oak desk, at which sits a man in black glasses and a grey shirt. Ann recognizes him as Sanders. Behind him stands a third man in comfortable clothes. His hip has the obvious bulge of a holstered gun, and there’s probably more weapons stored on who must be a guard.

“Thank you, Lo,” Sanders says in obvious dismissal. “Patton Sanders. Ann, I presume?”

“Yes sir,” Ann replies, extending a hand to shake Sanders’. He receives an arched eyebrow in return.

Sanders scans over a sheet of paper in front of him. “You understand this is an unpaid position? You get free room and board, but that’s it. In exchange, you’re expected to provide companionship and tend to my needs as specified in the job description. Is that clear and understood?” At the mention of needs, the guard wrinkles his nose in distaste. He meets Ann’s eyes for a split second, then looks away. “Because if you have any doubts at all, you should walk away.”

“I understand sir.”

“Good.” The papers handed to Ann to look at are a wall of text, that he knows, but he can’t read it. “This is your contract. Read through it, any questions?”

“I.. uh…”

“Can you read, Ann?” Sanders asks.

Ann shakes his head, and he swears that Sanders’ face softens. Then Sanders stands up and comes around to Ann’s side of the desk and starts reading it to him. Every time Ann doesn’t understand a phrase, he explains it as best he can. No one has ever done this for him. For just a moment, Ann wishes he didn’t have to kill Sanders. But that’s his job, everyone knows Sanders is an awful man.

“Do you understand your contract?” Sanders asks, looking at Ann questioningly.

“Yes sir.”

“Can you sign your name?”

He shakes his head again. Sanders presses his lips together in a fine line before saying, “Do you agree to the contents of this contract?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. Come with me, we need to make some…” Sanders pauses to look at Ann’s outfit. “Wardrobe changes.”

That’s ominous, certainly. It could mean he gets to put on more clothes, which is great, or it could mean that he’ll be expected to wear nothing but underwear. Or just flat out nothing. Still, Ann doesn’t have a choice, so he follows Sanders (and the silent guard) out of the room, to an elevator, up several floors, and into another room. This one is clearly a bedroom, decorated in dark blues and greens. A balcony overlooks a grassy field that fades out into woods, and there’s a doorway that leads to what Ann assumes is a bathroom. Sanders opens a chest at the foot of his bed that Ann catches a glimpse of the contents of. Most of it is enough to make his chest tighten, but Sanders just hands him clean boxers and a soft looking tee shirt. 

“Go take a shower and get dressed. You have ten minutes. Bathroom is that door, and there’re towels in the cabinet.”

Ann nods and goes into the bathroom. It’s three or four times his entire room back home, with immaculate counters and a tile floor. The shower is clean and beside it is a luxurious porcelain tub with two (Two!) taps. This time, he just sticks with the shower. He turns the water on, and it’s already warm. His first warm shower, and it eases tension in so many muscles. Ann uses the soaps in the shower to wash his body and hair, then steps out to dry off. Unsure how much time has left, he hurries through getting dressed and toweling off his hair.

When he hangs up the towel, Ann notices blocky print on the mirror- a daily itinerary. He makes note to keep an eye on it before heading back to the main room. Sanders and the guard are having a hushed conversation that ceases when the guard spots Ann. “Come kneel in front of me, please?” 

Already?

Hesitantly, he comes and gets on his knees in front of Sanders, mouth open expectantly. A sad look flits over his face. “No, that’s okay, sweetheart,” he says, an edge of something unidentifiable in his voice. Sanders has a cheap leather collar, not unlike the one Ann usually wears, and he fastens it around Ann’s neck with warm fingers. He slips two fingers into it to check for wiggle room, and gives Ann a smile. It feels like a genuine one. “Wouldn’t want anyone getting any ideas.” 

The words strike a chord and Ann swallows, but if Sanders notices, he doesn’t show it.

“Now, come with me to my office, I have work to do.”

Sanders gets up and walks from the room, clearly expecting Ann to follow him. The guard stays closer to Ann now, occasionally glancing down at him. Side by side, Ann realizes how big this guard is. He could kill him in an instant. The guard walks like he knows it. Still, Ann pretends not to care and follows Sanders to a modern office. One wall is made entirely of glass, revealing a view of the city. From here, Ann thinks he can even see his boss’ building. 

While he’s gawking at the view, Sanders snaps his fingers in front of Ann’s face to regain his attention and points at a pillow beside his desk. Somehow, Ann drags his attention from the view and kneels on it while Sanders sits at his desk and works. One of Sanders’ hands comes down to Ann’s head and combs through his hair. The touch is repetitive, gentle, soothing. For the first time in his life, someone’s touching him and he doesn’t want it to stop. He doesn’t even realize he’s pushing into the touch and humming in the back of his throat until Sanders’ hand stops and he gives Ann a smile.

“You like that, huh?” Ann nods. “You’re adorable.”

After the interruption, Sanders goes back to working and playing with Ann’s hair.

For the rest of the afternoon, that’s what Sanders and Ann do. Ann must fall asleep at some point, because he wakes up to the guard shaking him gently. “Dinner,” he says, helping Ann to his feet. “The boss is with someone else, but he wanted to let you sleep. It’s just you and I for tonight.” He walks toward the office door. “D’you like pasta? I’m not the best at cooking, that’s Logan’s job.”

“Pasta?”

“You know. Noodles, sauce, parmesan cheese?”

Ann stares blankly at the guard.

“You’ll like it,” he says, and leads Ann to a huge kitchen. “I’m Roman, by the way.” Roman fills a pot with water and sets it on the stove while he searches for a box of pasta. “Pour some olive oil in the pot for me? It’s right beside the burner.” Silently, Ann grabs the bottle and tilts it over the pot, continuing until it coats the surface of the water. “No, that’s too much, let me-” Roman goes to scoop some out with the spoon in his hand, but his quick movements send Ann stumbling back a few steps, arms raised to cover his face. “-help. Ann, I’m not going to hurt you, you just made a mistake. You didn’t know.”

His heart still hammers in his ears, but he calms down enough to watch Roman cook the pasta and make sauce to go over it, carefully explaining each step. Roman’s voice is calm and easy to focus on, calming Ann down even more. If he didn’t know better, he would say it’s on purpose.

By the time the sauce is done, the pasta is cooked through so Roman pours it out over a strainer. After he does that, he mixes the sauce and noodles together. He grins at Ann and makes two big bowl. “Tell me when,” he says, shaking a bottle of parmesan over the pasta.

“When to what?”

“Stop.”

In the time it takes Ann to realize that, there’s an amusing amount of cheese on top of his dinner. “Stop.”

Then Roman does the same over his own and sets it aside. Both of them sink to the floor and eat side by side. Ann wolfs it down, used to having limited time to eat and not having known that food could taste so good. “Do you want more?” Roman asks when his bowl’s empty. “Help yourself, I always make way too much.”

He wants more, but Ann knows he’s too full, so he just takes his dishes to the sink and starts washing them. 

“You don’t have to do that, we pay people to.”

“Do you actually pay them? Like, you don’t just scare them into working?” Ann asks, seemingly startling Roman by speaking.

“Of course- why would we scare them? That’s awful,” Roman says.

Ann sets down the bowl. “Do you hit them? Or yell at them?”

“No, we fucking pay them like normal people, why’re you asking such weird questions?”

Instead of answering, Ann continues to wash his bowl.  _ We fucking pay them like normal people _ . Normal people don’t get hit or yelled at or scared in order to make them work. Those are all the things people do to make Ann, and others at home, work. Once again, Ann wonders if Sanders is really the villain Jace makes him out to be. He doesn’t voice the sentiment, just dries off his dishes, puts them away, and waits for Roman to finish packing up the leftovers and putting them in the fridge.

“Patton’s probably waiting for you in his room by now, so I should take you up there.”

That makes Ann freeze for a fraction of a second, just long enough for Roman to catch it. He knows what Sanders is going to want from him, and he can’t put up a fight. It’s not like he’s never had to do this before, but the first time with a new person is nerve wracking because he doesn’t know what they’ll be like. With every step towards Sanders’ room, his nerves get worse. By the time he and Roman get there, he’s on the brink of panic.

“Thank you Roman. Dismissed,” Sanders says, setting aside a book. Ann’s eyes are drawn straight to Sanders’ shirtless chest; he’s not bad looking, and the fine trail of hair that disappears into his sweatpants is enticing. “Ann, shirt off and come here.”

He takes off his shirt and folds it neatly, setting it on top of the chest at the end of the bed. Deep breath. Ann sits on the bed and watches Sanders, waiting to see what he’ll do.

“Now, Ann, I need you to understand something- you have the right to say no or stop. You won’t get in trouble for that, okay?” Sanders stares at Ann, awaiting a response. “Ann.”

“Okay,” is all Ann can say. 

Sanders looks unsure, but he still leans forward. His hands rest around Ann’s face. Once again, Ann’s nervous; what is he planning to do? He lets Sanders pull him closer, ignoring his own anxiety, shuts his eyes, and waits.

Two soft lips press against Ann’s and he realizes that he’s being kissed. He’s never been kissed before. It’s nice, he decides, but he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Sanders, as though he realizes it, moves from holding Ann’s face to his waist and pulls him close. Ann wraps his arms around Sanders’ neck to get even closer. Now he’s sitting in Sanders’ lap and he’s not scared. He doesn’t have a reason to be, not with Sanders. He has an innate trust in him, and Ann doesn’t know why. There’s no apprehension when Sanders slips his hands into Ann’s boxers. No fear when Ann eventually finds himself lying on the bed beneath Sanders getting prepped. Nothing but pleasure when Sanders fucks him and jerks him off at the same time. For the first time in his life, sex is good.

Afterward, while Ann is still breathing heavily and marveling at the fact that it could feel so good, Sanders disappears into the bathroom and reappears with a washcloth, damp with warm water. He cleans off the sweat, lube and cum on Ann’s body, then crawls into bed beside him. 

“You good?” Sanders asks.

“Yeah.”

Sanders turns off the lamp on the night stand, plunging them into darkness, and curls around Ann. He’s left to his thoughts in the dark. Maybe the job won’t be as horrific as Ann initially thought, but he can’t let himself get distracted. He’s here to kill Sanders, and that’s all. Somehow, he manages to fall asleep.

The week goes by similarly; Ann eats his meals with Roman, spends the day with Sanders in his office, and at night they fuck. He starts to get used to it, but wakes up in bed alone. Sanders is nowhere in the room and now Ann’s worried. They’re going to kill him, or worse, and-

“Ann?” Roman knocks on the door. “Are you awake?”

Cautiously, Ann walks over and opens the door for Roman. “Yeah. Where’s Mr. Sanders?”

“The boss’s got business out of town today, so you’ll be spending time with Logan.”

He follows Roman to the kitchen for a quick breakfast, then to another office near Sanders’. Inside of it is the man that Ann met on the first day. Logan. Roman nudges Ann to the pillow on the floor by Logan’s desk and disappears, not speaking a word. A few minutes pass in silence before Logan glances at him.

“Pat really seems to like you,” he says, typing away on his computer. “I mean, you’re cute. Small. Timid. His type, really. But you know, I really don’t trust you. I know where you’re from, and why you’re here.”

“So why am I still here?” Ann asks.

Logan laughs. “I don’t think you’ll hurt anyone, especially given your past.”

“My past?”

Now Logan looks uncomfortable and stands up from his desk to walk over to the windows and open the curtains. He has the same view as Sanders, but his windows are smaller. Ann joins him and follows Logan’s finger to look at his building. Jace’s building.

“They’re not good people, Ann. I know that you don’t want to be here, and that they’re making you do this, but you have a choice. Pat and Roman  _ are _ good people. They’re nothing like Jace. You can start over here. You should start over.”

“What does that mean?” Ann asks.

“Means you don’t have to go back.”

Logan returns to his desk and dives back into his work. Ann sits on his cushion and thinks about it. The past week has been the best of his life. No one has screamed in his face, or beat him, or so much as made an off-handed nasty comment. Maybe Logan has a point- he should stay here. He doesn’t know Logan, Roman, or Sanders exceptionally well, but Ann can’t imagine any of them hurting him. This is a chance that Ann really ought to take, the more he thinks about it. 

The rest of the day is spent with Ann bored out of his mind. He has nothing to do, and Logan doesn’t pay him any attention. At one point, Ann just takes to pacing around the office mindlessly until Roman comes to get him for dinner. They don’t eat with Logan, instead sticking to their usual routine of the two of them making something simple. Then Roman takes Ann back to Sanders’ room and locks him in there for the night. Sanders doesn’t come home.

Since Sanders still isn’t home, Ann goes back to Logan’s office. This time, he’s given a book to read to entertain himself, and he has to explain that he can’t read. Logan looks shocked, immediately grabbing a notepad and a pen and sinking to the floor beside Ann.

“Do you know the alphabet?” 

“No sir.”

“Just Logan,” Logan says, and sets to teaching Ann the alphabet. He sings the song and explains capital versus lowercase letters. Then he teaches Ann to write his own name. Despite the fact that his writing is shaky and unpracticed, Ann’s proud of it. Even better is the genuine smile Logan gives him.

That night, after Roman has locked Ann in Sanders’ room, someone fits a key into the doorknob. He doesn’t have time for curiosity before Sanders throws the door open, storms inside, and slams it shut. “Sir?” Ann says tentatively, instinctively shrinking away.

Sanders doesn’t answer him.

He grabs Ann by the hair and throws him onto the bed. While Ann’s frozen in fear, Sanders starts ripping his shirt from his body. A memory flashes through Ann’s mind of Sanders telling him he can always say ‘no.’ But was that just a courtesy? Will Sanders actually stop, or will he just laugh? If he doesn’t say anything, things will definitely escalate and it won’t be fun like Sanders has made it all week.

There’s a real debate in his head about whether or not to say stop.

That is, until Sanders pulls off Ann’s boxers and flings them who knows where in the room and Ann doesn’t realize he says- screams- stop until Sanders freezes and jumps back. “I’m sorry,” he says, rubbing his temples. “I’ve had a bad couple days, I wasn’t thinking. Go ahead and grab some fresh clothes, I’m going to shower.”

Just like that, Sanders walks out of the room, leaving Ann naked on his bed. Stunned, Ann throws his dirty clothes in the hamper and puts on boxers, one of the shirts from Sanders’ closet, and a pair of sweatpants. With more of himself covered, he feels more secure. Of course, he’s apprehensive when Sanders comes back and redresses, afraid of an impending punishment for daring to say no. Luckily, nothing happens. Sanders pulls out a book and asks if Ann’s comfortable laying in his lap. Ann says he is, so Sanders has him lay on the mattress with his head resting on top of Sanders’ thighs. Like they’re in the office, Sanders plays with his hair and pays him no other attention. It’s nice. It’s something Ann could get used to.

Over the next month and a half, Ann learns a lot about Sanders. He learns his routine, his likes and dislikes, and that never once has he pushed things when Ann tells him to stop, which is only when Sanders is in a bad mood and starts to get rough. Eventually, Sanders sits down with him and says they need to talk. Ann prepares to be kicked out, or told that Sanders knows what he’s up to and plans to hurt or kill him, but instead Sanders takes his hand and plays with his fingers.

“You don’t have to tell me, but Ann… I’m worried about where you were before I hired you.”

“What do you mean?” Ann asks, his heart pounding in his ears loud enough to nearly drown out Sanders’ voice. This is it, this is where he’s going to die.

Sanders sighs. “Before I hired you, the people you worked for or lived with… I have reason to be concerned that they were… that they… Ann, were you sexually assaulted?”

Two words. Two words that Ann recognizes but not in conjecture and Sanders says them like they’re something to be afraid of. Part of him wants to ask Sanders to explain what that means and why Sanders is looking at him like he’s going to break. He just doesn’t understand and it must show in his face. Sanders runs a hand through his own hair in frustration. It’s a habit of his when he doesn’t know what to say. 

“Did people do stuff to you that you didn’t want? Like have sex with you, or touch you in uncomfortable places, or make you touch them like that?”

“That’s literally been my entire life. Why do you care?” Ann asks.

He crosses his arms in front of his chest defensively. For a moment, Sanders stares at him with something like shock on his face. Ann stares back. Heavy silence blankets the room as Sanders silently walks out, leaving Ann on the bed. The moment the door shuts, Ann curls up and puts his head in his hands. Everything they are, everything they have, is ruined. He’ll be gone or dead before the night’s over.

Ann runs out of the room, down the hallways. He finds the stairwell and starts heading to the ground floor so he can get out. No one stops him until he reaches the entryway, where of course, Roman is. Before Ann can put his hand on the knob, Roman scoops him up and carries him to the elevators, kicking and screaming and crying the whole way. He doesn’t set Ann down until they get back to Sanders’ room, where Sanders and Logan are already waiting.

“You could have been a little less terrifying in bringing him back up here,” Logan says. “Ann, no one’s mad at you, by the way. Roman’s just a dick.”

The blatant insult makes Ann flinch, expecting Roman to get angry and hit Logan.

But Roman just rolls his eyes and leans against the wall. 

“Now, I need you to understand that I know where you came from. I know who sent you and what you’re here to do, but I want to- I- I honestly don’t believe you’d kill me, Ann. If you’ll let me, I want to pay Jace off and keep you here.”

Despite the stumbling over his words, Sanders’ intentions are clear. “You… you want me to stay?” Ann asks. 

No one’s ever actually wanted him, especially after he fucks up like he did today. A lingering doubt in the back of his head tells him it’s a trick. The moment he agrees, they’re going to laugh at him and kill him. But there’s a chance they mean it, and it’s a chance Ann is willing to take. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna find my crusty ass on tumblr it's coincidentally aslo pretty-mr-sanders


End file.
